


Exchanging sadness for tree sap

by LadyKG



Series: HashiObi Fics [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Based off of another story, Character Development, F/F, F/M, FIx It, Fix-It, Hashirama is literally a lab (as in the dog), M/M, Obito is touch starved, Soulmates AU, Time Travel, Uchiha Senju clan politics, don't know what to tag, flirting with mokuton, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKG/pseuds/LadyKG
Summary: Obito has been thrown back in time, he has met his soulmate, and now he has to deal with the outcome (politically and emotionally) - based off of Blackkat’s soulmate drabble.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Soulmate Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001085) by [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat). 



> 'Ello lovely readers!
> 
> So this story is based off of Blackkat's soulmate AU drabble where Obito gets flung back in time and meets Hashirama as his soulmate. I asked to use the concept and expand on it and she agreed. At the bottom of this fic you should see a link to her story which you can read first but you don't have to.
> 
> The title for this story was inspired by: wildfairy . tumblr post/ 155459066224 /this-year-im-trying-to-learn-from-the
> 
> Anyway, the chapters will most likely be on the shorter side, but I hope you all enjoy!

It takes them an hour to get Madara out of the tangle of limbs and vines wrapped maliciously around him. Mostly thanks to the fact that Obito offers absolutely no help with the matter, and Hashirama’s own distraction at the arrival of his soulmate lends none of his attention towards aiding in the task. It’s vindictive and petty, but Obito feels it is well within his rights to be that way towards the bastard. (He doesn’t feel sorry at all, even when the ginko saplings tries to rip out Madara’s hair).

So it takes an hour for the Uchiha to cut their clan head free. An hour in which neither side has made a move against the other and Obito swears he saw several members of the clans gravitate together. An hour in which Hashirama has not stopped looking at him, eyes full of wonder, like a child who has seen the sun for the first time. It makes his spine crawl; he doesn’t deserve such a reverent look. Especially not from the Shodai Hokage. The man whose dream Obito had tried to crush under his foot like an errant piece of ember.  As if the Will of Fire could be snuffed out so easily. A man that Obito had been fighting against not so long ago; even if it was just a resurrected version.

Hashirama hasn’t said much. At first his mouth was flying off about inane topics like the weather and the tea the clan elders have imported from Uzushio. Obito hadn’t minded, enjoyed the sudden wave of chatter even. It distracted him from thinking too much about being in the past so suddenly, about having a soulmate he thought he would never find. It kept his mind from wondering to thoughts about the fact Uchiha Madara is not only _alive_ but not _actually_ the Uchiha Madara he knew. But not five minutes of this pass before Senju Tobirama interrupted, Madara’s younger brother - Izuna, Obito reminded himself, a near clone of Sasuke - not far behind in joining their gathering. Hashirama had _sulked_ of all things when Tobirama had demanded they pay attention to more pressing topics. Like _where_ Obito is from, because the Senju have no knowledge of him.

“I’ve never seen you in our compound either,” Izuna comments, eyes sharp and clearly whatever support that may have come for Obito’s arrival earlier is replaced by a seasoned shinobi’s suspicions. The threat is there, unspoken in the tension that percolates around the gathering. Some of the strongest shinobi from both clans more than ready to take out a threat no matter whose soulmate they may be. Even Hashirama’s dramatized sulking has come to an end.

Obito isn’t stupid, has spent most of his life reading people and manipulating the world, knows what will happen here if any lies he tells are discovered at the wrong time. (A refusal in trusting them now will only grow a refusal to trust the truth later). He is not egotistical enough to believe that they won’t be able to read the underneath the underneath - and knows that should it be so suddenly unearthed in the moment he is practically helpless to fight. Chakra exhaustion is his worst enemy at the moment - even his sharingan has deactivated from the strain that his rush to create a suitable landing platform caused.

But that doesn’t mean he _can’t_ lie. Doesn’t mean that there isn’t a _possibility_ that he will be believed. Because _really_ who would believe the truth anyway? Time travel? Because of a long dead teammate who is apparently more of a troll than Obito realized?

Who would-

 _“So no more masks, huh?”_ And Obito forces himself not to react outwardly to the whispering voice in his head. The one filled with sunshine and a power to save like no other. Instead, he takes his surprise and turns it into a sweep of those gazes that are watching him, falling finally on one that reminds him so greatly of the boy that saved him.

What he sees hardens his resolve. There is belief tucked under curiosity, hope twisting neatly against that same wonder and joy Obito had first seen when he landed here. There is acceptance.

Who would want to start out a new life (a second chance) with another mask, anyway?

“The future.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,
> 
> Fair warning: updates won’t be consistent and may not be this often…
> 
> Also, I kinda may or may not have played around a bit with canon time tables… in a few ways… because in blackkat’s drabble Obito has the rinnegan (and I really really wanted to use the whole, “no more masks?” line that Naruto said so… yeah). Also ages… ages are a thing… like Kagami will probably be around sixteen? And Tobirama will probably be early twenties because canon is shit at giving ages for when the whole founding of the village actually happened….

“What?” Izuna is the one to ask the question, breaking the silent disbelief that has settled over the party. (Really, Obito doesn’t see how staring at him for ten minutes can be a justified reaction - time travel isn’t _that_ farfetched. But maybe he only thinks that because he just experienced it).

Obito sucks in a breath, fortifying against any doubt or delusion that he can go back now, “I’m from the future.” And of course saying it a second time doesn’t actually give any more credibility to the statement.

Except Hashirama is looking at him like the entire world just shifted, “Then the Senju and Uchiha will have a good enough relationship to have a child?” The man is practically vibrating in place, a near opposite to his sulking before. “See, brother, I told you-“

Obito doesn’t hear the rest of his soulmate’s sentence, too busy trying to wrap his mind around the implications of his words. A Senju and Uchiha child? Obito is an orphan, never knew his parents, only that they must have been Uchiha. But… but the clan _hated_ him. He was the black sheep. And what better reason than- No. No, Obito forces himself not to tense, not to think about this anymore. He has no proof (Except he _does_ ). The mokuton was because of those experiments, not because… not because he is part Senju. They would have told him. (Except he knows they wouldn’t).

“The future must be a very innovative place for such a jutsu to be created,” Tobirama says, starting the conversation up again while eyeing Obito like he wants to pick apart his brain and root out all the secrets within. “Or was it that eye that gave you the ability?”

“It was my dead teammate.” He shakes his head, both to dispute Tobirama’s point and at the absurdity of it all. But, really, the least he can do for Rin is give her credit for letting him meet his soulmate.

“You said you’re supposed to be dead,” Hashirama picks up quickly.

“I was supposed to die during a war,” he frowns.

“Clearly it didn’t stick,” Izuna mumbles, looking Obito up and down. The comment goes ignored by those around him. (Thinking back on it that was the second time death passed him over).

“And the next thing I know I’m being shoved and falling into the middle of your _pitched fight._ ” He repeats Madara’s own words back, practically spitting them.

“War?” Tobirama shifts, clearly trying to calculate what the threat could be.

“The fourth shinobi war,” Obito gives a wane smile. No more masks, but… he isn’t sure admitting to starting a war in front of both clans would be the greatest of ideas. It would be a power play, surely, and would mark him as a potential threat. “The Akatsuki against an alliance of the elemental nations.”

“Red dawn?” Tobirama tilts his head in question, hand coming up to rest on his chin.

“They were freedom fighters that became corrupted,” Obito hedges. His sins are ones that he is more than willing to accept but trying to gain trust isn’t exactly easy when you out right say you’ve committed heinous acts (even by shinobi standards).

There is a pause while this sinks in. While these shinobi legends think on what a threat this organization must have presented in order to force the entire shinobi nations to band together.

“Perhaps, it would be best to wait for Madara to…” Izuna turns to eye where the Uchiha have yet to fully release there leader. “Join us before continuing this discussion,” the shinobi finishes with the glint in his eyes that says he is enjoying the situation far more than he is letting on. (Made even more evident by his clear lack of help in freeing his brother).

So they wait. Wait the next forty minutes with Hashirama’s bright eyes focused on him. Wait the next forty minutes with laughter attempting to bubble out of his chest in hysterical bursts. By the time they get Madara free his hair is a mess from the ginko sapling’s ministrations, his face splattered with dirt and scratches, and Obito is more than satisfied to see the way he favors one side.

“Your soulmate’s insane,” the man tells the Senju eyes - still sharingan red - skittering between Obito and Hashirama. But it is not this statement that has every instinct in his body _screaming_ to kill with each step the man takes. Practically rioting against all logic that letting his mokuton created plants attack the Uchiha will have to be enough. Telling him to eliminate a threat not only to his person but to the future as well. Because, now, there is no distraction of finding his soulmate, no distraction of human contact that was far from malicious.

And though Obito’s presence will ensure that the spark for the fourth war never happens it doesn’t mean that the catalyst has been dealt with. He could kill him. Even without kamui, he could take a kunai from his unsuspecting soulmate and gut the man who killed Rin, who pushed Obito to bring destruction on the shinobi world. The man who is to become the vessel for a goddess, the man who-

Every muscle pulls tight at the feeling of a hand covering his fist, more than ready to attack, more than ready to feel a weapon punch into him. It never comes though, and Obito blinks away enough red to see Hashirama’s concerned demeanor. To notice that the hand covering his is warm, trickling calming chakra into him like a lifeline. Those around him are silent, studying, and it takes him another several seconds to let his tension fade.

Hashirama doesn’t let go.

Obito doesn’t know how to react in return.

Instead, he eyes Madara for a moment more, examines the man who has done nothing yet but listen to elders and send his people to war for old revenge. The man who is friends with Hashirama. The man Obito logically knows he can’t kill if he wants there to be peace. The shinobi that has the potential to destroy the world and rein war upon all nations. (That doesn’t mean he can’t make the man’s life a living hell, however).

“To think the _great_ Uchiha Madara was defeated by a few plants,” Obito says low enough that only he and Hashirama hear, holding back his mocking laughter all the while. Hashirama, on the other hand, has less luck. His mirth from Madara’s misfortune and Obito’s comment is more than obvious in his poorly repressed smile and gleaming eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed by an already irritated Madara.

“He’s from the future,” Izuna cuts in, clearly having little-brother senses that are flaring with warning that Madara is about to do something stupid. Obvious choice; bring the conversation into a new topic.

“The future,” Madara raises an eyebrow, hands going to rest on his hips. “Great, even more proof that he’s lost his mind.”

Hashirama is sputtering out a defense, making claims of possible jutsu and dojutsu. But Madara isn’t paying attention, and Obito feels more than violated as the man’s gaze rakes over his figure, landing finally on his ringed eye.

“I’ve never seen a dojutsu like that before,” he frowns. “What is it?”

“The rinnegan,” Tobirama announces before he can. “It’s only ever mentioned in passing,” the future Nidaime continues, curiosity saturating his voice, “I had assumed it was nothing but a legend.”

The question is there, in the tone of the man’s voice and the looks on those in their gathering; if it’s a legend, then how did _he_ get it?

It’s a well-known fact that the Uchiha clan hate non-clan members wielding their eyes. Especially when said eyes are stolen. It is a little known fact that they also hate when an Uchiha steals another form of dojutsu. This disapproval stemming from pride not only in the sharingan but in the clan itself. An elitist view point that they do not need any other dojutsu because no other can compare to the power of the sharingan. Arrogance in the rawest form - the same kind that has them facing the Senju without armor.

When he had been retrieving Nagato’s eyes he hadn’t given much thought to it. Too busy trying to start a war. Too busy drowning in his anger. He hadn’t cared. And, now, Obito stands before the clan head with a stolen rinnegan. He can’t say his feelings have changed.

“I took it from a dead subordinate,” he tells them evenly. He doesn’t allow himself to say comrade because he had never treated Nagato as such - he has no right to claim such ties.

And he doesn’t allow himself to look at Hashirama. Not because he thinks the man knows about the Uchiha’s opinions but because he is sure that the man’s own morals will cry out in protest. He doesn’t want to see the disapproval that he knows is there.

“You’re an _Uchiha,_ ” Madara hisses out, face filled with anger and a fire in his eyes that Obito hasn’t seen before

_“You’re an Uchiha like Sasuke,”_ Naruto’s voice whispers through his head before he can even try to deny it, try to push away the name of a clan he had massacred. (And really, he needs to figure out what kind of jutsu that sunshine boy used to get into his head so thoroughly. To make him remember. To make him believe in a future where peace was possible without absolute control).

“It was _war,_ ” Obito growls back instead, because the absolute _last_ things he is willing to take is _Madara_ reprimanding him on morals. His life has not sunken so low. The scowl on his face pulls almost uncomfortably at his scars, no doubt making him even harder to look directly at. “I will not be lectured by _you_ on the merits of my decisions.”

“Time traveler or not,” Madara’s voice takes on an authority that has Izuna shift into a more attentive state. “You’re still an Uchiha, and I am your clan head. You _will_ respect that.”

“Actually, he’s a Senju,” a voice calls from behind, demanding and confident in a way that has Obito thinking of Kushina.

(Madara is lucky for this interruption.

Obito likes to think he has patience. He spent nearly twenty years fulfilling his plan to rule the elemental nations. He even helped an elderly Madara with his bathroom needs while under his tutelage. Had let Madara off with nothing more than an attack by plants. Had ignored his instincts that wanted a body at his feet. But his patience has fast run out while faced with this Madara’s judgement on his choices. And he is not entirely sure what he would have done without this new distraction).

“Touka,” Tobirama greets, giving a nod of acknowledgement as he moves to let her find space in their circle.

“Touka!” Hashirama beams as the woman comes to stand on Obito’s other side.

“Little cousins,” the kunoichi - Touka, Senju Touka - says, but Obito notices the way her eyes skitter to Izuna before a blink corrects their direction.

“Uchiha.”

“Senju,” Madara’s voice is sour. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I disagree.” The smile that she gives is more of a warning. Sharp and clearly a promise to follow through with the threat it gives, “As I was saying, my dear cousin’s soulmate is a Senju. Seeing as he’s fated to a clan head. Or, have you forgotten how this works?”

Obito decides she’s his favorite Senju (baring Hashirama because he is sure that the man would be inconsolable in his sulking if the way he reacted to Tobirama is anything to go by). With how easily she can make Madara bluster. With how easily she can make the man _back down._

“I know how the agreement works,” the man snaps, arms crossing over his chest. “Did _you_ forget that it’s only between clans with a treaty?”

Touka swings her naginata down to study the blade with calm features, “Are you saying that Uchiha and Senju aren’t going to ally?”

“Madara?” And Hashirama’s voice comes out equal parts hurt and disapproving.

The man scowls, “I never said that.”

“Then we can move past your stuffy traditions,” she says sickly sweet, ignoring the glare her words earn her with an ease that says she has pissed scarier people off. “Now let me get a look at you,” she turns to Obito, showing the two Uchiha her side - not as direct an insult as placing them at her back, but a clear sign she sees them as unworthy of her full attention. Her critical look pauses on his rinnegan, moving smoothly over his scars and focuses a moment long on his chest where he knows the split between him and the material used to fix him becomes obvious. She gives a hum, “How good is your taijutsu?”

Obito blinks, taken aback by her sudden question, but he obliges to answer - it will give little away anyway. “I’m proficient.”

“Weaponry?”

Obito narrows his eyes. Any shinobi knows better than to just list all of their abilities, and that goes a bit farther than he is comfortable. “Why?”

Touka nods towards Hashirama, “I approve.” The next thing Obito knows she is presenting her hand to him, “I’m Senju Touka, it’s a pleasure to meet my idiot cousin’s soulmate.”

Obito doesn’t even try to suppress his approval, even if he has to force himself not to hesitant in returning her gesture. Definitely his favorite. “Obito,” he pauses for a breath, because Naruto fought hard to make him accept his name again, but denying what she just used to shut up an argument would be suicide, “Uchiha-Senju Obito.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello my lovely readers,  
> Have I mentioned that the chapter lengths will be… erratic? Because they will be. Very much so. Very very much so. (This story is meant to be short… like seriously… Short with a capital S.) (Gawd it took me forever to get this up - so sorry). Also, there will be only one more chapter after this, and then a ton of shorter drabbles that will posted as part of this series without any true order to them. Anyway. Yeah. Here’s the new chapter!  
> Hope you enjoy!

The Senju compound is beautiful. Like a small beacon of life in the devastation caused by constant war that eats away the landscape. The shinobi that guard the gates look on with worn down lines of worry and tightened grips as the returning members shuffle into the compound with Tobirama at the lead. But they do not question Obito’s presence, nor his lack of restraints and he is let freely into their home that bursts with greenery. That has laughter on the breeze and the hum of chakra like a calm ocean blanketed over the area.

The homes that sprout up around him are built for endurance as much as they are for appeal. Browns and greens, deeper reds and skyline blues, purples and oranges become more mingled as they walk further in. He can’t help his curious gaze, can’t help the wonder at the fact this is _real,_ that he is _here._ The same way his eyes can’t help but flicker over to Hashirama, overwhelmed with the sudden need to see how this man looks surrounded by his home. (Surrounded by the closest thing that this time knows to peace.) What greets him is warm brown eyes that have a softness around their edges most shinobi lose after their first battle. What greets him is the fact the man isn’t looking at anything but _Obito._

He looks away - that gaze is not something he is used to - but not fast enough for Hashirama to miss his glance.

“I’ll show you the compound,” Hashirama says, excitement bubbling without subtly in the man’s voice. “The market shouldn’t be too busy now, and there is-.”

“What is the meaning of this?” An aging voice cuts into the peace. “What is an _Uchiha_ doing in our compound?”

By Hashirama’s tightening smile alone Obito can tell it’s one of the clan’s elders before they even appear. A group of them; two women in ostentatious clothes that hide weapons with a flare of silk and a man that holds a cane a little too long to simply be for balance.

“The runner should have told you,” Hashirama’s voice is strong, the tone of a leader. “He is my soulmate.”

“Is there proof of this?” The man questions.

“I can confirm the mutual stopping of their timers.” Tobirama moves to stand beside his brother, a presence that is both a threat and a promise of protection.

The elders seem no more satisfied by this than Hashirama’s own proclamation. “We will discuss this further in our meeting.”

“Which is to be held immediately.” The three do not turn away with their statement finished, but wait in expectance.

“I thought they would wait until tomorrow, at least,” Hashirama deflates, an aura of depression slowly clouding over his mood. Obito holds in a snort as all too vivid memories of what Uchiha elders used to be like come to mind.

* * *

 

He has counted every matt in the floor of the room they placed him in twice over, run his hand over every secret compartment, inspected every stitch of the clothes that were offered to him, and took the time to admire the lethal array of weapons stashed away. And yet Hashirama has not been released from the meeting. (Obito won’t admit that it makes him restless. Makes a sourness prickle up the back of his throat as each scenario runs through his head.) The room is warm. Homely in a way that Obito hasn’t let himself be surrounded by since he fell into Zetsu’s plans. (Zetsu, who he will ensure the end of.) It leaves his skin crawling like he doesn’t belong here. Not in this time, not in this place, and not by the side of a man made of sunshine. It makes him restless, building up just as much as his want to be here. (The same feeling that had overcome him when the man had exclaimed he was _‘the answer to everything’._ A feeling of tentative hope, and a want to let this feeling become normal. A want so fierce, even as it’s only a mere ember in size, that it staggers him.)

He’s about to explore Hashirama’s weapon’s stash again when there is the flickering of warming light making its way down the corridor. The soft pad of feet - purposeful - starts moments after. When the door to the room slides open it reveals a haggard Hashirama and another clan member caring a tray of food behind.

The second the man’s eyes land on him they light up like every worry has become less of a burden. Butterflies fill his stomach at the way a smile spreads over Hashirama’s face - attractive before, and only more so now. (It only serves to bring up memories of the way those very lips had felt over his.) “You brought food,” he says, because that is safer ground than his worries and wants, and certainly safer than the way he can’t help but melt when he is swept up into a hug.

“The elders have accepted you,” Hashirama pulls back then, a wild excitement in him that drowns the previous exhaustion as if it had never existed at all. “And there will be talks with the Uchiha! Finally, we will move towards peace.” His eyes soften further, and a forehead rests against his, “All thanks to you.”

Obito frowns, because history proves that statement wrong, “You would’ve gotten here eventually.”

Hashirama hums, “Perhaps, but at what cost?”

It takes a moment to realize that Hashirama doesn't expect an answer. Obito could give it to him - they both know that. But the man isn’t looking for it, isn’t asking about the future. And maybe there is the hint of death in his question - the kind that always comes with battles and war - but that too is not all that the question means. (Living with no soulmate is an unpleasant experience, after all. One Obito has dealt with for thirty-one years.)

There’s the clearing of a throat and Obito pulls away from Hashirama with a snap. He hadn’t even noticed that the other Senju hadn’t left.

“Will that be all Senju-sama?” The young man asks, looking not only put out by the display of affection but equally perturbed at interrupting them during it to get an answer.

“Yes, that will be all, Shin-kun,” Hashirama shifts towards the small table in the room that is now adorned with a range of foods. “And I’ve told you to call me Hashirama.”

“Then I’ll take my leave, Senju-sama,” the boy gives a deep bow and exits with little fuss. It’s the first time that he and Hashirama have been alone since this all started. It makes everything so much more surreal.

It’s also then that the smell of the food truly hits him - it’s been _days_ since he has last eaten anything. Before even the official start of their final battle, he had spent so much time concentrated on making sure everything would go right that he hadn’t bothered to act on such basic bodily needs. Had practically forgotten about them.

His eyes snap to the table then. He can hear the way Hashirama smiles, “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he admits, because a lie would mean waiting.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Obito catches Hashirama’s gaze and sees an almost hesitant glint in them.

“I don’t know what it’s like in your time,” the man hedges when he realizes he’s caught Obito’s attention. “But here, the clan does not care much for counters that have too much time on them.”

Obito blinks, not expecting such a topic to be brought up, although not entirely lost as to where it is going. All the same he sets his chopsticks down, a clear sign for the man to continue, and listens calmly as Hashirama explains their system. A system that marries off most of the main line that extends from the clan heads themselves, especially if their countdown shows a far off time. All in the push to ensure the continuation of their bloodline. And with Hashirama’s mokuton he was especially needed in terms of child bearing and thus was married off at a young age in equal parts an insurance plan for heirs and a political move for an alliance with Uzushio. Such arrangements also ensure that should the clan head be matched with a partner of the same sex then there would still be the birth of the next in line.

Truly, it’s not entirely different from his time, although not all clan practice such methods anymore.

“I already knew you were married to Uzumaki Mito,” he tells Hashirama when the man seems to have exhausted himself of words.

“You knew?”

Obito hums in confirmation, “Of course, you two are legends.”

Hashirama blinks as if this is news to him. As if his prowess in battle and the mere fact he is about to create a village and bring about a time of peace between to historically rival clans is not worthy of remembrance. (As far as Mito goes, and becoming the first Jinchuriki? Well, Obito will just have to find a way to ensure that Naruto still gets the fox - whether through a seal or not. It’s the least he can do.)

“Then… you do not care?” Hashirama asks, and Obito is not sure what the look on his face means, nor what he _should_ feel. Because the selfish part of him says he does. That Hashirama is _his._ His soulmate. His to have. However, another whispers of how he does not deserve this. Of how he should be _dead._ The history books always said that the two had been happily married, had had kids, and grandkids. Can Obito really take that away? Does he have any right to?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lovely readers,  
> I have literally no excuse, but seriously I have no intentions of backing out of any of my works. I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated anything. And really, it’s been a while since I’ve written either, because I’ve just been... lost? I don’t know. For some reason the words just wouldn’t come, and no matter how much I tried it all felt too flat.  
> Anyway, here’s a new chapter, I hope you all enjoy!

Obito has waited a lifetime for his soulmate. Has watched how his timer had counted the wrong way for decades while trying to justify his plans for a mass illusion with the comfort of regaining Rin. With the comfort that she would be _his_ soulmate if only he could reach his goal. (And if not that, then his friend, at the very least.) It had all been a lie. One that was masterfully orchestrated by Zetsu in order to release the goddess Kaguya. But in the end it brought Obito to the same place.

It brought him to his soulmate.

His _real_ soulmate. Not the one that would have been fabricated by an illusion. But the one the universe had picked as his perfect match. The one that had looked at him in wonder and joy. It brought it him to Hashirama, who was _happy_ to find Obito. Who looked at him like he was _beautiful._ Who _looked_ at him, instead of through him like so many others had.

How could he possibly give that up? (Deserving or not, it just means that he will have to prove he has earned someone like Hashirama. It means he will have to work towards bringing peace in a less destructive manner.)

“I’ve waited my entire life to find you,” and maybe the smile that pulls at his face comes off slightly crooked, but he thinks it’s okay, “you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Hashirama’s smile, however, takes his breath away.

Maybe it’s selfish. To lay claim to this man when Obito should be dead. When the history books tell of how Hashirama had a happy marriage with Mito. Maybe it’s selfish. But Obito _really_ doesn’t give a damn.

“You mentioned peace between the Uchiha and Senju,” Obito changes the subject, eager to move away from topics that make his heart beat erratically. (Although he suspects that will become the norm with Hashirama.)

Hashirama nods, eyes alight with a fire that Obito knows will inspire generations to come, “I’m sending out a scroll tomorrow with a request to meet on neutral grounds. The battles will finally come to an end.”

“And you’ll build your village,” he says, a small smile on his lips.

“Our village.” Hashirama tells him, voice rumbling with warmth and promise, “It will be a symbol of peace and new beginnings.” 

“No more child soldiers, or war.” Obito’s fist clenches against the table, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Because he can picture it. The kind of peace he had been trying to reach for so long. Maybe Rin and her friendship isn’t in this one, but she will experience it one day, and that’s enough. (It will have to be enough.)

Hashirama’s face is serious when he reaches out and places his hand over Obito’s, “We’ll do it together.”

It sounds nice; like a dream. But that’s exactly what it is, because so long as Zetsu is alive peace can be nothing more than a pipedream. “I need to tell you a few things first.” Obito holds Hashirama’s gaze until the Senju nods.

He tells Hashirama about the fourth war. More specifically, Zetsu’s role in it all, and how the shadow is around even now. The way Zetsu manipulates the timeline. The way he brings hatred and fear, brings mistrust and corruption.

“You’re saying that even if our clans come together-.”

“-Zetsu will do everything to raise distrust,” Obito finishes, his gaze solemn and mind whirling about all the possibilities. Because now that he’s in the picture, Obito doesn’t doubt that Zetsu will change plans. More likely than not he will try to go after Madara again, but with Izuna alive it may prove more difficult.

Unless-

His thoughts are cut off with a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Hashirama calls out. And Obito watches as the same young man as before enters the room, only this time several other clan members accompany him.

“I have brought extra bedding for Obito-sama,” he bows deeply in respect, those behind him doing the same, before they start moving into the room and spreading out the bedding next to Hashirama’s. The thought of sleeping next to his soulmate makes something in his stomach flip, releasing a surging horde of butterflies that fill his veins and tickle his heart.

“Just Obito is fine,” he tells them, even though he suspects he’ll be ignored just as they ignored their clan head before. When he glances over at Hashirama it’s to find a slight blush on the man’s cheeks.

“You don't have to stay here tonight, if you don’t want to,” Hashirama tells him, but even as he says it the grip that he has on Obito’s hand grows stronger. “There are plenty of rooms you could choose from.”

Obito glances from Hashirama to the beds. When was the last time he slept next to someone that wasn’t a conglomerate of plant matter and goddess spawn? When was the last time he spent the night somewhere he felt _safe_?

He shifts his hand just enough to loosen Hashirama’s grip, only to wind their fingers together more thoroughly and squeeze. “Like I said, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

It’s the first night in a long time that he doesn’t have a nightmare; he doesn’t see Rin’s bloodied body, or feel the crushing weight of a boulder. It’s the first night in a long time that when he wakes up there is no scream to be quickly smothered, or the feeling of sweat sticky against his back and chest. Instead, he wakes in a bed decades before his time. Wakes up in a bed next to his soulmate. Instead of a cave, he wakes up to Hashirama sprawled out like a starfish on his own mat, waves of dark brown hair fanning out wildly around him.

He can’t help but stare. Can’t help but hold his breath as to not disturb the moment in the slightest.

Yesterday wasn’t a dream.

Yesterday wasn’t a dream, and Obito’s soulmate is Hashirama. Senju Hashirama. The Shodaime Hokage.

And he’s decades in the past.

A smile flickers across his face, one that he does nothing to stop. He can change _everything._

Hashirama shifts slightly, and it draws Obito’s attention back onto him. It’s fascinating to watch the ‘God of Shinobi’ wake up, hair a mess, eyes blinking the whispers of sleep from warm depths. It’s a sight that Obito stores away. Tucks in the safest corners of his mind so as to never forget.

And then the door slides open. Obito is a split second away from attacking, a hairsbreadth away from sending whoever has just entered the room into another dimension, when Hashirama’s hand reaches out and grips his.

“It’s only Shin-kun, don’t worry,” Hashirama tells him. “The seals on the door won’t let anyone unwelcome in.”

Obito lets out a breath with his nod, rising up to assure himself of this fact even as he knows Hashirama wouldn’t lie to him. Sure enough Shin is there, laying out a simple breakfast of fruits, light soup, and tea.

Hashirama is the first to walk over, Shin giving a deep bow to the clan head as he backs away from the table. “Thank you, Shin-kun. That will be all.”

“Senju-sama, Obito-sama.” Another bow, and the young man leaves as quickly and quietly as he came.

Hashirama turns to him then, a smile bright in his eyes as Obito joins him at the table. “I’ll show you our compound today, it’s beautiful.”

Obito doesn’t doubt that.


End file.
